In Search of Sunrise
by s.grand
Summary: In which there are Death Eater attacks, near-death experiences, an unwillingly paired Draco and Hermione, and the promise of a sunrise. D/Hr, rated for language.
1. Chapter 1

_In __Search __of __Sunrise_**  
>Disclaimer:<strong>_ Harry __Potter_ and all its characters belong to the goddess, J.K Rowling.

. . . . . .

Draco lit a cigarette, telling himself to be patient. Every noise he heard was putting him on edge. He was expecting someone to show up anytime now, unless his plea for help had been ignored. _Patience,__ patience_. He took a long drag from the cigarette and blew out slowly. There was that saying, that good things come to those who wait. As the phrase bounded through his head, Draco rolled his eyes. What a load of shit.

And then there came the sound he was waiting for – a gentle _crack_, close enough to be heard but far away enough not to startle him. Unconsciously, Draco pulled out his wand.

"Draco Malfoy," came a familiar voice, and seconds later Severus Snape stepped into view.

Draco pocketed his wand and continued smoking his cigarette. "You're late," he said. "_Sir_."

"Forests aren't renowned places for a meeting. I wasted quite some time trying to find you." Snape gave Draco one of his infamous looks – part disapproval and part disgust. "You look terrible."

Draco had to bite his lip to stop himself from making a snappy comeback.

"It's been awhile," Snape continued.

"Hasn't it?" Draco smirked. "I'm surprised the Dark Lord didn't send you along with the people designated to kill me. We might've run into each other sooner if he did."

Snape's lip curled. "Enough childish banter. You should know better than to come out here when your life is in danger. And put that cigarette away."

The cigarette stayed in place. "I needed your help," Draco said casually, "and I had nothing left to lose. Either you would kill me or you would help me out. And I think I got lucky. If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it by now."

"Trusting me was a foolish idea. What if I turned you in to the Dark Lord?"

"But you didn't, did you?"

"I'm trying to make you learn from your mistakes," Snape snapped. "You may as well have dug your own grave. Calling me here was a risk you shouldn't have taken."

"But it paid off, didn't it? I'm still alive, and I think you're going to offer me help."

Snape seemed to brace himself before asking, "What sort of help are you looking for?"

"The kind that keeps me safe." A trail of smoke flew out of Draco's mouth. "You work for Dumbledore."

"I'm a Death Eater."

"Ah, but you're on Dumbledore's side. If you were on the Dark Lord's side, then you would have brought the whole merry gang with you or you would've killed me yourself. I hear the Dark Lord has them all looking for me?"

"Only the people he knows will get the job done." Snape looked uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking.

"Meaning my father?"

"Amongst others."

"So that includes Aunt Bella – and, perhaps, her husband?"

Snape huffed, irritated by Draco's casual tone. "You disobeyed a direct order. What did you expect?"

"Nothing. I just didn't think my loving family would be so eager to carve on my tombstone." Draco threw his cigarette down and crushed it under his heel. "We're wasting time. I asked you to come here because I can't keep running forever. I've already been in too many near-death situations. I need protection."

"And you want this protection from…?"

"Dumbledore."

"I suspected as much." Snape shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I'll have to discuss your situation with Professor Dumbledore before anything can be decided. Members of the Order of the Phoenix are now permanently living at the Headquarters, which is protected by a Fidelius Charm. Even if Dumbledore were to agree, you would have to wait to receive the location of Headquarters from him." Snape gave Draco a look. "You've made it this far…do you think you can survive for another few days?"

"I'll manage. How will you find me?"

"I won't. You'll have to tell me where you'll be. In two days, send an owl to my home in Spinner's End and set the time and place for another meeting."

Snape turned to leave. After a moment's hesitation, Draco called him back. "Professor?"

"Draco?"

"What are the odds?" For the first time, a hint of desperation broke through Draco's nonchalant façade. "Do you think he'll agree?"

Snape's face softened. "Professor Dumbledore is not cruel, Draco. Whatever his decision, I doubt he will send you back into this pit of starving wolves." He hesitated only slightly before saying, "Either way, you have my support."

Draco gave a curt nod in thanks.

"No more mistakes, Draco," Snape added. "You're very, very lucky that you're still alive."

And with that, Snape turned and left. After a few minutes, the distant _crack_ was heard once again.

. . . . . .

Reaching into his pocket four days later, Draco pulled out one of the last two cigarettes he had and placed it at the tip of his mouth. He made a mental note to remember to stock up on more cigarettes soon. Igniting the tip of his wand with a small fire spell, he lit up and took a deep drag.

A hand-written note from Dumbledore sat in his pocket. Snape had told him where to go and when to pull out the note, and to burn the note after reading it so that nobody else would ever find it. The note would make the Fidelius Charm immune to him and let him in on the secret, enabling him to go inside Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, but he made no move to pull it out. He simply stood where he was, across Number Eleven, Grimmauld Place.

Draco contemplated his situation while blowing smoke out of his mouth. If he pulled the note out, he'd be making a decision to get help from people who would view him as a murderer and a notorious Death Eater. If he stayed out here and continued running, he'd probably be dead in the next few weeks. Even if he miraculously managed to survive, the idea of spending the rest of his life in hiding was slightly unappealing.

But hell, walking into the headquarters of Dumbledore's self-righteous crew and seeking their protection was just a little too much, especially for him. It was like karma was giving him a hard kick in the balls.

He took a deep breath, stubbed out his cigarette, and pulled out the note. Self-righteous or not, Draco concluded, at least with the Phoenix people he'd be protected. Even if they imprisoned him.

Later on, he would regret thinking it would be that easy.

The narrow, slightly slanted handwriting on the note informed him that Headquarters were located at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, and Draco tapped his foot as the house pushed its way into place. When the house had fully settled, Draco moved towards the black door and knocked.

. . . . . .

He'd been on the run for months and months. He wasn't really sure how many months – being on the run without a calendar, or even a watch, kind of does that to you – but he knew for sure that it had been two years since he saw the high ceiling of Hogwarts' Great Hall, or Peeves the poltergeist, or Dumbledore's wrinkled face.

Two years, and this is what it led to. Two years, and he found himself strapped to a chair while members of the oh-so-mighty Order of the Phoenix looked down on him and decided whether or not he was "worthy".

Draco's eyes scanned the room, his fingernails digging into his palms. They hadn't received him kindly; that much he'd expected. But this looked more and more like an over-exaggerated disciplinary meeting. Light was shining on his face and he could clearly see Dumbledore standing at a podium, looking back at him.

The rest of the room was in shadow, but he could see the faint outline of stands with people sitting there, judging him. Every now and then, he could hear someone shift or cough.

He had suspected that Dumbledore would want to hear his story and would make him sit down somewhere for a tell-all, but he'd thought it would be just Dumbledore. Either that, or he had thought they'd lock him up somewhere first and ask questions later.

But clearly Dumbledore had been expecting him; a blonde haired girl, who had opened the door, had taken him straight to Dumbledore when she saw him. Of course, before Draco was allowed to see the old man, his pockets were emptied, his wand was taken, and his arms were bound. And then, finally, Dumbledore had greeted him almost jovially before calling this meeting – or whatever the hell it was.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. _Oh__ joy_, Draco thought. _Here__ comes __the __death __sentence._

"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore's voice echoed across the room, "It is not our nature to condemn those who seek forgiveness."

_How__ very__ noble __of __you_.

"However," Dumbledore continued, "we also have no reason to trust you, nor have you earned our forgiveness in any way. Mr. Potter believes you have ulterior motives."

"Mr. Potter?" Draco repeated blankly.

"I will assume you haven't forgotten who Harry Potter is?"

"I should be so lucky." He raised an eyebrow at Dumbledore, who stared back with a serious expression on his face. "What I meant was, why would anyone care what Potter thinks?"

"Seeing how you and he attended school together, he would most likely have a greater insight into your character–"

"Potter doesn't know shit about me."

"Tell the boy to mind his language," came a croaky voice from the stands. A few others murmured in agreement. Draco swore under his breath. This was unbelievable.

"Nevertheless," Dumbledore continued calmly, as though nothing had happened, "there is nobody in our Order who is willing to verify your innocence."

_Big surprise._

"And as I said before, Mr. Potter thinks that you may want to join to act as a spy for Voldemort."

Draco smiled. "And Potter's word is solid, of course, because he's never been wrong before-"

"It's not just Harry that believes that," a voice said. A slim, tall figure walked into Draco's line of vision. If it wasn't for the out-of-control bushy hair, he wouldn't have recognized her at all.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Didn't expect to see you here. Missed me, Granger?"

She gave him a cold look and folded her arms across her chest. "Most of us here believe that you're up to no good. Even if you're not, we see no reason why we should risk our necks just because you might have developed a conscience."

"And seeing how you're the all-knowing Hermione Granger, you can't be wrong?"

"It's not just me, Malfoy. Didn't you hear me say 'most of us here?'" She turned to Dumbledore. "There's no chance in the world that he's a different person than he used to be. Even if we considered the slim possibility that he might have changed, we're still risking our lives. If the Death Eaters want him dead, then they'll kill him. And if we're protecting him, they'll kill us, too."

"Hell, Granger, when you put it like that, I definitely want you to sign me up. Hopefully the Death Eaters will raid this place and kill you first." Draco looked her over. She was wearing a too-large shirt, possibly belonging to Potter, Weasley, or any other man unfortunate enough to keep her company. "What's with the shirt? Did you become a she-male yet, or is that still an ongoing process?"

"Shut it, Malfoy," a familiar voice snarled from the shadows behind Granger.

"You there, Potter? Never thought you'd be the type to hide behind Granger's skirt. _Under_ it, maybe–"

"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said in a warning voice.

"Just for the record," Draco said, quirking an eyebrow in Dumbledore's direction, "Granger isn't as smart as she seems to be if she's thinking in those terms. The Death Eaters want you lot dead whether or not you're protecting me. They don't need any more incentive than they already have. Thought you would have figured that out by now." He looked at Hermione with a smirk. "What, you thought if you crossed the street and saw a Death Eater there, they'd smile and offer you a Bernie Bott bean?"

She said nothing in reply. Draco gave himself a moment to enjoy the triumph of shutting her up.

"Perhaps, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said, "if you could convince Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter that you are no longer in allegiance with the Death Eaters–"

"Look, I'm having a hard time convincing myself that this isn't some form of a sick joke. I didn't come here for this. What do you want from me? I'm not going to kiss Potter's ass just so I can be accepted here."

"I say we lock him up and torture him," Hermione said. "Let him get a taste of his own medicine."

Harry emerged from the shadows, stopping next to Hermione. "Tell us why you deserve a second chance."

"Not if my life depended on it, Potter."

A second later there was a wand pressing hard against his throat, poking a hole next to his Adam's apple. "Your life does depend on it, you worthless piece of shit," Harry hissed, two inches away from Draco's face. "Give us a reasonable explanation or you die. You were a fool to think we'd welcome you here with open arms."

"Harry," Dumbledore said. "Please."

Harry stepped away, giving Draco a look of disgust.

"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said softly. "You must understand what you ask of us. The last we heard, you had become a Death Eater, running in the closest circles with Voldemort himself. This change of mind is astonishing, to say the least, and I cannot blame the members of the Order for assuming the worst."

Draco shook his head. "Snape works for you. He's the one who gave me the slip of paper with the address written by _you._ He was obviously acting on your orders. You obviously expected me to come and I'm here. What do you want from me?"

The news that Dumbledore had invited Draco was obviously a shock for Hermione and Harry. They looked at Dumbledore, wide-eyed.

Dumbledore smiled.

"Ah, we cut to the chase." Dumbledore looked at Draco with piercing eyes. "You see, Mr. Malfoy, Severus had informed me of your – dissolution, shall we call it? – from the Death Eaters. Due to your father's actions, I assume? My contemporaries will no doubt think my judgment is flawed and that you are still a Death Eater in disguise. Perhaps they think that you will be the death of us all, sometime soon.

"I, however," Dumbledore continued, still smiling, "am a little more optimistic."

The moment of shocked silence was suddenly broken when Potter said, in an incredulous tone, "Professor, you can't be serious–"

"Oh, but I am, Harry," Dumbledore said. "After all, when a person finds the courage to reach out for a second chance, I wouldn't deny it to them. Would you?"

Potter scowled. "Professor, you don't understand–"

"Oh?"

"He hasn't changed. People like him," Potter pointed his finger at Draco, "are incapable of change."

Draco said nothing, raising an eyebrow.

"Professor," Hermione spoke up. "I have to agree with Harry. This is too much of a risk."

"You too, Ms. Granger?"

Hermione nodded. Draco's eyes flicked back to Dumbledore. What was going to happen now? Dumbledore looked at Draco.

"You say, Harry," Dumbledore said, keeping his eyes fixed on Draco's, "that people like Mr. Malfoy can't change? Even if given the chance?"

"Yes, sir."

_Piece__ of__ shit_, Draco thought furiously. Who the fuck was Potter to say whether he could or couldn't change?

"Then I propose a small science experiment."

Draco could hear people murmuring in confusion. Hermione and Harry exchanged looks. "Sir?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"You believe that certain people cannot change. I believe otherwise. So the question in our little experiment is: can people truly change for the better, or not? You, Mr. Malfoy, will be our lab rat."

Draco's eyes widened. The old goon was insane. Officially.

"I'll be your _what_?"

And that was all it took. If he hadn't been practically stapled to a chair, he would've walked out and told them all to go fuck themselves.

"I'm not some toy, old man. And I refuse to be part of your sick psychological shit. Play your games with Potter over there." He shook the chair that bound him. "Let me go. I've changed my mind. I want to leave. Now."

Dumbledore stared at him patiently.

"Now," Draco repeated.

"Professor, if he wants to leave–" Hermione started, but Dumbledore silenced her with a wave of his hand.

"Unfortunately for you, Mr. Malfoy, you placed yourself in this situation. As I mentioned, you were a known Death Eater. Even if we decided not to let you into the Order, we wouldn't be able to just let you walk out of this building. That would be a mistake on our parts. However, lucky for you, I'm quite stubborn in my decisions. Whether you like it or not, you are now a member of the Order of the Phoenix."

Draco's struggles against the chair stopped instantly. It wasn't just him – the whole room had gone quiet. If someone used that moment to drop a feather, they would have heard when it hit the ground. It was that quiet.

"He's what?" Hermione asked, breaking the hush.

"Mr. Malfoy is an official member of the Order of the Phoenix. Our experiment has already begun. I want my hypothesis to be true, Mr. Malfoy, so I wish you the best of luck."

Dumbledore nodded happily at Draco, who was still sitting motionless in the chair.

"It's not unconditional, of course," Dumbledore said, after a moment. "After all, Mr. Potter's fears may be well-founded. You will need, for lack of a better word, a supervisor. Someone who will keep an unbiased eye on you."

_Unbiased?_ Draco nearly snorted out loud. _Good __luck__ with__ that__._

"And Ms. Granger?" Hermione's head shot up. Draco looked from her to their former Headmaster and something in his head clicked into place. _No,__ no, __no,__ a__ thousand __times __no_. "I've decided that you're the best person for the job."

The roar of disapproval that rose from the stands was nothing compared to the roar in Draco's head. Dumbledore raised his hand and silence was restored, if only at the surface.

"No," Draco said almost immediately.

"No," Hermione said simultaneously. "Professor Dumbledore, please."

"No," Harry repeated. "I don't want that snake following Hermione's every move."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Are you deaf, Potter? Has your scar impaired your hearing as much as your brain? Apparently the she-male is going to be following me."

Hermione shook her head, her wild mane of hair flying. "I won't do it. I refuse. I won't spend every god-forsaken minute following this – this–" She motioned in Draco's general direction, at a loss for words.

"Speechless, Granger?" Draco smirked. "I've never had that effect on a Mudblood before."

It happened so fast he didn't see it coming. One minute she was standing on the other side of the room, the next she had crossed the distance and gave him a hard slap that jerked his head back. A resulting gasp of surprise came from the stands, followed by a few cheers.

_Oh, __hell_, Draco thought. _I'm__ the__ star __in__ a__ courtroom __drama._

Dumbledore, meanwhile, was trying to restore peace.

"Ms. Granger–"

Hermione was breathing hard, standing in front of Draco, giving him what was probably the nastiest look he had ever received in his life. "Say it again," she breathed. "I dare you."

Draco locked eyes with her. She was so angry, so red in the face and flustered, that he wanted to laugh, to push her buttons even further. Before he could say anything, Dumbledore intervened.

"Ms. Granger, please take a step back."

She clenched her fists. She was clenching her jaw, Draco could tell, but she stepped back. She turned to Dumbledore. "Professor, please. _Please_," she said. "Choose anyone else. Anyone. I can't do it. I can't. Malfoy and I can't even stay in the same room together. One of us will end up dead."

"Ladies first, Granger," Draco quipped. "But that doesn't really qualify for you, does it?"

"Do you see what I mean?" she asked Dumbledore, gesturing towards Draco.

"You're no better than I am, Granger," Draco said.

Hermione gave a harsh laugh. "Don't flatter yourself, you jerk."

"I wasn't flattering myself. I was sinking down to your level and rolling in the mud."

"You-"

"Enough," Dumbledore said, authority ringing in his voice. Everyone looked toward him. "I have made my decision. Mr. Malfoy has been accepted into the Order of the Phoenix."

"Albus," a deep voice came from the stands. "Isn't this the sort of thing we should all vote on?"

"In this case, no, Caradoc," Dumbledore said. "I don't have the time or the method to convince you all that this decision is in our best interest. I ask you to simply trust me." He looked over at Draco. "I don't believe we'll be disappointed. At least, not in the long run."

Dumbledore moved to stand in front of Draco. "Mr. Malfoy," he said, "you are now a member of the Order. I wish you the best of luck."

The ropes that held Draco in place immediately loosened and melted into the chair. Draco lifted his arms, rubbing his wrists, but he didn't move.

"I don't understand," Draco said. "What am I supposed to do now? Jump out of here and scream with glee?"

"If you truly feel like doing so, then by all means," Dumbledore replied with a small smile, gesturing towards the exit. Draco glared at him. "I will speak with the other members soon and decide exactly what sort of job we should hand you. For the time being, you are under surveillance."

Draco heard Hermione groan.

"Ms. Granger will give me weekly reports. She is required to follow you everywhere you go and you are required to make the task simple for her. Behavioral improvement is also advised, Mr. Malfoy. If she tells me that you refuse to cooperate, then you will lose your one chance and you will be dealt with severely."

_Go to hell, old man._

"Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said. Her voice sounded small. "Please. Reconsider. Put anyone else on the job. Not me. Anyone but me."

"And who's to say Granger's going to keep an _unbiased_ eye on me?" Draco added. "If you ask me, anyone could do the job better."

"I trust Ms. Granger's judgment," Dumbledore said to Draco. "I believe she's above allowing petty school enmities to affect the outcome of something this serious." He then eyed Hermione over his half-moon glasses. "The job is yours, Ms. Granger. Weren't you saying you wanted an assignment?"

Hermione looked like she had swallowed something sour.

Dumbledore turned back to Draco. "You are free to go. Ms. Granger will show you a room where you can stay and will later get you acquainted with the rest of the Order."

Draco stayed in place, still in surprise. How did all this happen in such a short span of time? Hermione, for her part, looked like she had woken up to discover that her worst nightmare was actually a reality. She gave Dumbledore one last, pleading look. Dumbledore saw it.

"You have my sympathies, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore said softly. "But you know, just as well as I do, that nobody else would be willing to do this. Even if someone else volunteered, I doubt they would do the job properly. I have faith in you."

He waved to the door. "Go now. Keep a constant watch on Mr. Malfoy and report back to me at the end of every week. The assignment will be complete when I'm satisfied with your reports. That's an order."

The abrupt dismissal left Hermione with a look that made Draco want to laugh in her face. Except – considering how she was going to be keeping an eye on him _all__ day__ long_, and he didn't enjoy her company any more than she did his – he couldn't really find the situation all that funny.

Hermione walked up to him and grabbed his shoulder in a vice-like grip. "Move," she hissed at him, and he did, with her trailing behind him.

. . . . . .

. . . .

. .

**A/N:** This little fic was born when a friend of mine challenged me to write a fic where Draco and Hermione kiss twenty times before they actually get together. I don't know if I can get them to kiss TWENTY times without being completely OOC, but there should be enough DMHG romance in the future to keep everyone satisfied.

Anyway, this is going to be LONG with super-long chapters, so be prepared. I'll update as often as I can (I'm hoping to have it completely finished by the end of the year), but I'll be balancing college and everyday life along with it, so...we'll see. Love it or hate it, be sure to let me know!


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

. . . . . .

Yesterday, if someone had told Hermione that she would be forced to keep a twenty-four hour watch on Draco Malfoy, she would have laughed in their faces. As she gripped his shoulder tightly and pushed him forward, she couldn't really understand how she landed in this predicament.

He walked silently in front of her as she led him up the stairs. They had walked into a long hall with a line of doors on each side when Draco pulled his arm out of her grasp. She felt him move, twisting in her direction. Her heart jumped into her throat. She reached for her wand reflexively, pointing it at him.

He cast a lazy glance at the wand and looked up at her. "Your orders were to keep an _eye_ on me, Granger. Not a wand."

"The two aren't mutually exclusive," she replied. A cold sweat had broken out all over her body. She could feel the chill on her arms and she was trying to keep her hand steady. The last thing she wanted was for him to know she was nervous.

They stood that way for a bit while she looked at him properly for the first time. He was much too skinny now: his cheeks were hollow, his cheekbones jutting forward from his face, his skin looking like it was stretched too tightly over his bones. He obviously hadn't showered or shaved in a while; a tuft of blond facial hair covered his jawline, and his hair was greasy and darker than usual. The whole combination made his pointy features so much more severe.

But in spite of all of that, she could still see why he had been the topic of hot gossip at Hogwarts, why the girls in her year had swooned over him from time to time.

When she finally met his eyes, she found him looking at her with disgust.

"Got an eyeful, Granger? I don't normally give Mudbloods the privilege to check me out so freely."

_Stay__ calm, _she told herself. But it t was useless. Every time he called her a Mudblood, it was like he was setting her on fire. She was still holding her wand. She stabbed it roughly into his abdomen.

"Call me a Mudblood one more time and I'll hex you so terribly that nobody will ever recognize you again." _Calm__ down,__ calm __down.__ He__'__s__ making__ you __angry __on __purpose. __Breathe._ "Keep your insults to yourself or I'll make sure Dumbledore changes his mind about you."

He gave her a snide look. She stared back defiantly.

"Keep moving, Malfoy. It's taking all my energy not to hit you right now."

"Touch me, Granger, and I'll burn your fucking hand off. Got that?"

The arrogance in his tone made her smirk. "With what? The wand that you don't have?" She poked him again. "I'd keep the threats bottled up if I were you. If you value your own life, you won't do anything to me. And if you're smart, you'll know you _can__'__t_ do anything to me. So shut up and move."

Draco looked like he wanted to say something, but he turned on his heel and continued walking down the hall. Keeping her wand pointed at his back, she followed.

After a minute, he suddenly swiveled round to face her and the wand was against his chest again. A flicker of annoyance flashed across his face but he sneered at her. "Scared, Granger?"

"I'm cautious, asshole. And I have every right to be. I wouldn't trust you for anything." She looked at him warily. "Why did you stop?"

"What are we doing here?"

"Don't ask any questions, Malfoy. Just do what I say. Move."

"Kiss my ass, Granger," he snapped. "If you think I'm going to follow your orders like a dog–"

"You don't have a choice."

"I could walk away right now."

"Then go," she shot back. "Leave. Get out of my face and don't ever come back. You'll sure as hell make everything easier for all of us."

He didn't move. Hermione's lip curled in disgust.

"You don't fool us," she said. "Especially not me. You think I don't know why you're here? Somewhere down the road, you got scared for your own life and you knew the only place you'd be safe was here. You have nowhere else to go." She stabbed him with her wand again. "Now _move_."

He stayed where he was.

"Are you deaf?" she asked. "Move, Malfoy."

"Shut up, Granger. I don't hang from your every word the way Potter or the Weasel do, and I sure as fuck won't listen to the shit you say."

They glared at each other. Hermione could feel the thrumming of her heart. She knew it was a bad idea to get him angry, but she wouldn't back down and let him trash her. She was about to say something when he gestured to the doors around them. "In case you're as brain-dead as your friends, there are a million doors here and I have no idea where I'm going. You have to lead."

"So you can attack me when my back is turned? Hell no. Now move or I'll jinx you."

"Lead the way, Granger."

"No. I can tell you where to go from here." The wand stabbed him again. "I give the orders, Malfoy."

He laughed harshly. "I'm _under_ _surveillance_, Granger. Your job is to keep an eye on me. You don't get to tell me what to do. Buy a dictionary sometime."

"I'm supposed to keep you in line and make sure you don't turn around and kill us all. So if that means I have to keep a wand trained on you at all times and scream profanities at you until you listen to what I say, I'll do it. Got that?"

He turned away from her with a roll of his eyes. _Calm __down,_ Hermione told herself. She wasn't sure if she was shaking out of nervousness or anger, but it didn't matter. She would be damned if she let him think he was too much to handle. She could do this. She took a deep breath.

"Let's keep going, Malfoy."

He didn't reply at first. She prepared herself for another argument, but then he stepped forward. She fell into place slightly behind him.

He was looking around, staring at every door they passed. She didn't really want to talk to him, but the silence between them was thick and uncomfortable. She sighed and started to explain. "A bunch of these rooms are empty," she said. "The place used to be a lot smaller, so we've expanded to accommodate new members. Most of them like to live at headquarters."

"I don't see why."

She raised her eyes to the ceiling and bit back her insults. "If we live here, we don't have to keep going back and forth from home. The members spend most of their time here. It would be pointless to have a house just to sleep in."

"And what if I don't want to stay here?"

"Tough shit, Malfoy," she snapped. "Beggars can't be choosers. Either accept that or leave. Nobody wants you here anyway."

"And you'll just keep reminding me of it, won't you?" Draco scoffed. "Get used to my company, Granger. We're going to be seeing each other for a while."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but he continued walking.

The room she finally led him to was small and simple, like a private room at a Muggle hospitals. There was a bed in one corner, a small wooden nightstand next to the bed, a shelf in another corner and an adjoining bathroom. A closet door stood next to the bathroom door.

Draco cast a quick glance around the room and asked, "Are all the rooms this small?"

"You're not living in luxury anymore," she said curtly. She strode to the closet and removed two towels, then threw them roughly in his chest. "I suggest you take a shower. I'll ask Harry to bring you some clothes."

Draco gave her a nasty look. "I'd rather die than wear Scarhead's shit."

"Suit yourself," she replied. "Ron's clothes will probably fit you, too."

"Oh, hell no. I prefer Scarhead's clothes over Weasley's charity rags."

Hermione gave him a dark look. "I'll ask Harry to bring you something to wear. You get in the shower and I'll be outside."

Draco sneered. "Is that another order?"

"Does it make a difference?"

He didn't reply, merely raising an eyebrow. Hermione sighed.

"Look," she said, "you look like you could use a shower. Your personal hygiene doesn't have any effect on me. You can be as dirty or as clean as you want. If you don't take a shower, I won't give a shit. If you do take a shower, I still won't give a shit." She crossed her arms. "Your choice."

He gave her an unpleasant look before turning on his heel and walking into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Victory. It filled her for a small second as she realized that she had won this small battle. There was a spring in her step as she made her way outside and, as she closed the door behind her and sank down against the wall, she realized that maybe this task wouldn't be impossible.

Difficult, for sure. But not impossible.

. . . . . .

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry said, "I think you should reconsider. Give Malfoy to anyone else. I'll even take up the job."

The meeting had finished and Harry had followed Dumbledore back into his office. It was almost identical to his office in Hogwarts, just much, much smaller, with the table and chairs sitting across one another and a fireplace warming the room.

Dumbledore was seated behind the table, looking very much like he was on vacation. Harry, on the other hand, was finding it hard to sit down.

"With all due respect, Harry, I think giving you the job will mean imminent death for either you or Draco Malfoy. Both of you are incredibly short tempered."

"It doesn't matter," Harry said. He clenched and unclenched his fists. "Sir, he'll tear Hermione to shreds. He'll break her spirit."

Dumbledore looked at Harry with surprise. "Do you really believe Ms. Granger is that weak?"

"No. I just believe Draco Malfoy is that evil." Harry ran a hand through his hair. "I'm scared, Professor. I'm worried about what this might do to her. I'm worried he'll change her somehow and none of us will recognize her anymore. She won't be the same."

Dumbledore chuckled and shook his head. "No, Harry, I believe I made the right decision. Ms. Granger will stay on the job and she'll do it well. You should place some faith in her."

"I _do_ have faith in her–"

"Then you should begin to show it. I don't make decisions lightly, Harry. When you've lived as long as I have, you realize the weight of your choices, even the small ones. I don't believe I've made a decision I'll regret. Now go," Dumbledore said, dismissing him. "The beginning is always the hardest. I think Ms. Granger will need some help for now."

Harry stood up with a grunt and made his way to the door.

"And Harry?" Dumbledore called when Harry's hand was on the doorknob. "Try to find Ronald Weasley before he finds Ms. Granger. I don't think he'll take the news very lightly."

"No," Harry muttered as he left, "he won't."

. . . . . .

The reflection that looked back at Draco in the mirror scared him. There was a time he could remember being obsessed with his image – not in the conceited way everyone thought, but in what he considered a normal way because he believed that image was everything. Now he wanted nothing more than to break the mirror so that he wouldn't have to see this person staring back at him. _Who __are __you?_ he thought, looking at himself.

It had been months he hadn't seen his own reflection. He had a small beard growing on his chin, and his lank, greasy hair was almost shoulder-length. Draco could see why Snape had pitied him for the smallest of seconds, why Dumbledore had decided to take him in; he looked pathetic, like a starving homeless child. Hollow cheeks, prominent cheekbones. He could be a poster boy for anorexia.

He stepped back to get a good look at himself overall and saw the Dark Mark on his left forearm. Automatically, he looked away from the mirror and brought his arm up for inspection.

It didn't matter if you left the Death Eaters or if your loyalties shifted elsewhere; the Dark Mark remained the same no matter what you did or how you changed. If one of the Death Eaters touched their Mark, he would feel it, too. It was both an advantage and a curse.

For a brief moment, Draco thought about Harry. Was this how Potter felt about his scar? Was the scar, like the Dark Mark, a connection he didn't want but could use nevertheless?

Then he looked back at himself in the mirror and the moment was gone.

How long was he going to stay here? The lack of action was bothering him. It was his survival instinct kicking in and it was making him paranoid. He kept checking and double checking everything to make sure it was all safe. He half-expected the Death Eaters to knock his door down any minute now, finally having found him. They would kill him, but only after thoroughly punishing him.

_But __I__'__m__ safe __now_, he assured himself as he stepped into the shower. _They __can__'__t __find__ me __here.__ I__'__m __safe._

He only wished he could believe it.

. . . . . .

Harry found Hermione sitting down on the floor with her back against the wall with, her eyes closed.

"Hey," he said, when he was close enough for her to hear him.

Her eyes opened. "Oh, thank God," she said. "I was hoping you'd show up."

Harry grinned. "What's up?"

"Malfoy needs stuff to wear, at least for a few days," she said. "Would you get him something from Ron's closet? I'd go, but I don't want Malfoy coming out here to see he's alone and free to do whatever he wants."

The grin was gone and a frown took its place. "Malfoy asked you for clothes?"

"No," Hermione replied, a small smile forming on her lips. "He wouldn't ask for clothes even if he were wearing rags, but he needs stuff to wear. It's not like he had a suitcase full of personal belongings when he got here. Would you go, please?"

The frown remained. "But why Ron's closet?"

"I think they're about the same size, height-wise. Malfoy's too skinny now, but maybe he'll fill into them later." Hermione gave Harry a look. "Unless you want to share your own closet with him?"

"I'll get something of Ron's," Harry grumbled in reply.

Hermione closed her eyes again and rested her head against the wall. She wondered lazily if Malfoy was the type who took long showers or short ones. She had already been sitting outside for about half an hour.

The door opened two minutes later and she got her answer.

He had obviously just got out. He opened the door just slightly and stuck his head out. Drops of water were running down his chest from his hair, which he was trying to dry with one of the towels she had given him.

She stood up quickly, not enjoying how she was forced to look up at him from her position on the floor. And, knowing him, he probably thought that was where she belonged – on the floor, scrubbing filth.

He didn't leave the room. He remained the way he was, half his body behind the door, his head sticking out the crack.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked.

"I know seeing a pureblood naked is all you dream about, Granger, but I have standards."

She gave him a blank look. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I currently have nothing to wear. My old clothes are dirty. Weren't you supposed to bring me clothes?"

"Watch your tone, Malfoy." She crossed her arms over her chest. "I can make life either really easy or really hard for you."

"It can't get any harder than this."

"Try me."

Draco shook his head. "I'm dripping all over the fucking floor and I'm not interested in flashing you today, Granger. Am I getting the clothes or not?"

She ignored him. "It's on the way. Stop acting so idiotic and wrap yourself in the towel I gave you."

"Stop trying to sound so smart. I already did."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Didn't you say you were naked?"

"I meant shirtless."

"Oh, dear Merlin," Hermione muttered, raising her head heavenwards. "If you've got your man business covered, then open the door."

"My _man__business_?"

"You know what I mean," she snapped. She pushed the door, expecting him to let her in, but to her surprise he pushed back, leaving them exactly where they started.

"Stay where you are, Granger," he growled.

"Open the door."

"No."

"No?" she repeated. "I thought you already understood that I tell you what to do now. So open the door."

"No, Granger. Now fuck off."

She pushed against the door and still met resistance.

"Would you stoptrying to see me naked?" Draco snapped. "Merlin, Granger, I didn't know Mudbloods were horny on top of everything else–"

She kicked the door. Her foot bounced off the wood, leaving her angrier than she was before. "Listen, you piece of shit," she said, banging her hand against the door. "You think you own the world and everyone in it, but you don't. You're not worth shit. One of these days you'll wear out your welcome and someone's going to this miserable existence you call your life."

He was giving her a level glare. She was breathing like she had just run a marathon.

"That was interesting, Granger," he said finally. "You practice that speech in front of a mirror? Because I think you could've delivered it better."

"Fuck you."

The towel that he had been using to dry his hair was hanging from his right arm. He took it then, draped it around his left arm, and then stepped aside and opened the door.

"Happy now? There's nothing here. Fucked up Mudblo-"

"Don't," she snarled. She shot him a nasty look, then noticed the towel and the way he had wrapped it around his arm.

And that's when everything fell into place. She looked at him scornfully until he raised an eyebrow.

"Got a problem, Granger? Aside from your obvious mental issues-"

She ignored him and pointed at his left arm. "That's not fooling me and it's not going to fool anyone else. We all know what's there."

"How so very smart of you," Draco said. "Do you have a point or do you just like the sound of your own voice?"

"There's no use hiding it," she said, still indicating his left arm.

"What the fuck did you expect, Granger? That I'd show it off like a tattoo?"

"You would, if you were anywhere else," she said. "You sick purebloods with your sick prejudices, thinking that by joining Voldemort you're making the world a better place."

"We were getting rid of shit like you, weren't we?" Draco hissed back. "I'd say we actually were making the world a better place."

"You think the world could do with more Draco Malfoys? Prejudiced assholes with no moral center?"

"Prejudiced?" He gave a low chuckle. "You're thinking of the old Draco, Granger. I don't have any prejudices anymore. I hate everyone equally." He took a few steps towards her, towering over her. She glared at him defiantly. "Though for you I could make an exception."

"Hermione?" Draco had left the door open and Harry had poked his head inside. The look of surprise he was giving them made Hermione take a step back. She only then realized how close she and a shirtless Malfoy were.

"Well, if it isn't the high and mighty Potter," Draco said snidely. "Come to flaunt your scar, maybe?"

"Come to give you something to cover that pity-case you call your body, actually. What, you worried they won't let you in the pretty-boy club if you gain a few pounds?" Harry walked over and shoved an armful of clothes into Draco's chest. "Put a shirt on. You're making people sick."

Draco gave a dark chuckle. "Speak for yourself. Granger here just said it's hard for her to keep her hands off me."

"Oh, shut up," Hermione said. "Get dressed. We'll be outside."

Draco smirked as Hermione turned on her heel, grabbed Harry's arm, and walked outside. She slammed the door behind her for good measure, then closed her eyes and wearily put her head in her hands.

"You said that?"

She lifted her head to see Harry looking at her accusingly.

"Said what?"

"That you couldn't keep your hands off him?"

She blinked. "Are you kidding me right now? Please tell me you didn't just ask me that. Do you honestly think I would tell that - that disgusting _worm_ that I wanted to touch him?"

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. Had to check, didn't I?"

"No. You should've known he was lying through his teeth. The guy is scum."

"You're right." Harry frowned. "I seriously don't like him."

"Big news flash, Harry."

"And I don't trust him."

"That makes two of us. Plus everyone in the Order, including Dumbledore. Why do you think Malfoy's on surveillance?" Hermione sighed wearily. "And I'm the unlucky sucker who has to watch him."

"I tried talking to Dumbledore, to make him give the job to me, but he wouldn't listen. For some reason, he honestly thinks you can handle this."

Hermione didn't reply, but somewhere inside her, she was grateful for Dumbledore's confidence in her.

"You think maybe we're right?" Harry asked her. "That Malfoy has ulterior motives for being here?"

"I don't think so. I don't know about his personal motives, but it can't be anything the Death Eaters asked him to do. Dumbledore sounded pretty certain when he said Malfoy was no longer loyal to them."

"Dumbledore could be wrong."

"I think he's prepared for the possibility that he might be wrong. Again, that's why he's making me watch Malfoy."

"I just don't see why Dumbledore's going through all this trouble when we could just finish off Malfoy for good."

Hermione laughed. "Stop trying to sound so tough. You know just as well as I do that you wouldn't kill him. Hurt him, maybe, but you'd never intentionally kill him."

Harry gave her a crooked smile. "I'm an old softie, aren't I?"

"You're a classic." Hermione laughed. She leaned against the wall with a sigh. Harry came to stand beside her. "What about you?" she asked him.

"What about me?"

"You think I can handle Malfoy?"

"Twenty-four hour surveillance on a guy you truly hate?" Harry shrugged. "You've had worse."

Hermione heaved another sigh. "True enough."

. . . . . .

. . . .

. .

_Please review!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

. . . . . .

Harry left before Draco finally emerged from the room, fully clothed and looking fresh. Hermione gave him a once-over. He was still unshaven, and his long hair was swept back and tied into a ponytail that emphasized his hollow cheeks and pointed chin. She gave him a look of disapproval.

"You need a haircut," she informed him, "and a shave."

"Nobody asked for your opinion, Granger."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Why do you have to make everything so difficult? Looking like a jungle man doesn't suit you. I thought you still cared about being pretty. I'm trying to do you a favor."

"I don't need any favors."

"Fine. Then it's an order."

"Whose orders?"

"Dumbledore's, through me."

Draco smirked. "Dumbledore is ordering me to get a haircut?"

"Yes." She looked at him critically, as if he were a piece of art in need of chiseling. Then she tapped her foot. "Come on. I know someone who can give you haircut. She can give a whole new look, actually, in a really short amount of time." Draco stayed where he was. Hermione huffed impatiently. "What is it _now_?"

"Who's going to give me a haircut?"

"One of the Order members. She's good at it, she does it for everyone."

"I don't need anyone's help," Draco said. "I'm perfectly capable of bewitching a pair of scissors to cut my hair for me."

Hermione raised an eyebrow sardonically. "Have you ever done it before?"

"No."

"Then shut up and come with me. Just do as you're told." She pushed him forward and he moved. They passed about five doors before Hermione said, "She should be in now…ah, there you go." They had stopped by an open door and Hermione called out, "Hello?"

"I'm in here," someone replied, and then they heard several things crash and bang while someone swore. "Shit, this always happens. I keep telling Remus to move the table away from the chairs…"

Hermione was chuckling under her breath. Draco could hear what sounded like someone putting things back into place before a flash of pink bounded up to the door.

"Wotcher," she greeted Hermione with a warm smile.

"Tonks, this is Draco Malfoy," Hermione said with a smirk. "Draco, this is Nymphadora Tonks."

"Just Tonks," Tonks said quickly. "My mother was pumped with Muggle drugs when she named me. I know who you are – I was in the stands when Dumbledore enlisted you. Add that to the fact that we're related. Nice to finally meet you."

Draco raised an eyebrow. Hermione smiled.

"Malfoy needs a haircut," Hermione said.

"I can tell," Tonks said with a grin. She turned to Draco. "So, what'll it be? You want to keep looking like that or will you trust me enough to cut your hair?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Tonks seemed to really think this over before shaking her head and grinning. "Nope."

"Then why ask?"

"To make you feel a little better about the situation. No offense, but I think two well-fed women can handle your scrawny ass right now. So this can be as easy or as difficult as you like."

Hermione was smiling, too. With a roll of his eyes, Draco shrugged. "Fine. I'm all yours."

"Oh, goody." Tonks took hold of his hands and led him to the bathroom. She conjured a stool and sat him into it. "Don't worry. You'll be looking pretty again in no time."

. . . . . .

Tonks did a wonderful job. Hermione watched the scissors snip away under the direction of Tonks' wand and marveled at how the length of a few strands could alter Draco's appearance. Tonks bewitched a razor to work at Draco's face ("Just don't twitch," she warned him) and once she was done, he looked almost like his old self.

He was different, though. His haircut was the same and now Hermione had a clear view of the Draco Malfoy she had once hated so much, but something about him had changed. There was a guarded look in his eyes that had never been there before, a sharp edge to his expression, something different in the way he carried himself. She looked at him and wondered how someone could have changed so much and yet still be such an asshole.

"So?" Tonks stepped aside. "What do you think?"

Hermione nearly complimented Tonks' work until she noticed Draco giving her a look she had never seen before. She didn't recognize it, but his expression was fierce enough to make her hold her tongue. She simply nodded and smiled.

"Come take a look at yourself," Tonks told Draco. "I'll let the broom get to work with the sweeping."

Draco stood in front of the mirror and gave himself a blank look.

"We'll give you a minute," Hermione said. She and Tonks stepped out of the bathroom, though she was careful to leave the door open to keep an eye on Draco.

Tonks nudged her with an elbow. Keeping her voice down, she asked, "You doing alright?"

Hermione gave her a small smile. "I've had better days."

"Has he said anything about what made him come here?"

"No. We haven't really talked. It's not like we've spent the last hour bonding."

"I just don't understand it," Tonks said. She looked over her shoulder to where Draco was in the bathroom, still looking at himself in the mirror with an empty expression. "What happened to him? What did the Death Eaters do to make him switch sides?"

Hermione sighed. "I don't know, either. None of us do. I guess we'll find out eventually."

Tonks nodded. She moved to retrieve something, but when she tried sidestepping the table, she bumped into it with such force that the vase on the table tipped and rolled to the floor, crashing at Hermione's feet. It broke to a million little pieces at Hermione's feet.

"Oh my God!" Tonks exclaimed as Hermione stooped down and started muttering a repair spell. "Oh, Hermione, I'm so sorry."

Hermione laughed. "Don't worry. I'll fix it now. Nobody will ever know."

She flicked her wand and the shattered pieces of glass flew back together. "There you go," she said, handing the vase back to Tonks. "Good as new."

She looked over her shoulder to see what Draco was up to, except he wasn't there. The bathroom was empty. She had stopped paying attention for only a second, but it had been enough. Draco was gone.

. . . . . .

He wasn't sure why he did it.

He had stared at himself in the mirror as he listened to Granger and Tonks talk about him, and an overwhelming sense of exhaustion creeped up on him, as if it were making its way through the very marrow of his bones. _Is __it__ worth __it?_ Draco thought, staring into his own eyes. _Wouldn__'__t__ death__ be__easier__?_

The crash had jolted him out of his thoughts. He only had a few seconds, but he took them. Granger wasn't looking and Tonks was distracted. He made it out of the room and ran down the hallway, the carpeted floor silencing his footsteps. He made his way down the stairs, running past several Order members on the way, but nobody stopped him. He ran until he made it to the front door.

And then he stopped. What was he doing? Was he leaving?

He looked at the door, almost hoping it would make the decision for him. Stay or go? He wasn't sure what to do. If he left now, he would be digging his own grave. He didn't even have a wand. But if he stayed, he would lose his mind. He couldn't just stand around and do nothing.

"Leaving so soon, Draco?"

Draco felt the blood drain from his face. It was Snape.

"I thought you would at least stay for a day or two," Snape said. Draco turned to face him. "You didn't even last a few hours. I clearly overestimated you."

Draco felt his face contort with rage. "This wasn't part of the plan."

"You had no plan. You were desperate. Or do you not remember?" Snape's lip curled in disgust. "I risked my life to find you. This is how you thank me? By running back out?"

"I don't know if this is what I want."

"You don't even know what you want. What's your plan now? To walk outside this building without a wand and hand yourself to the Death Eaters?"

"It would be better than this."

"Would it?" Snape shook his head. "Grow up, Draco. You can't keep running away when things don't work out the way you want them to."

Draco looked back at the door.

"Please don't make any stupid decisions. I can't come running to save you every time you get in trouble." Snape put a hand on his shoulder and guided him away from the door. "Why don't you take some time to think about it? You haven't even seen the gardens yet."

. . . . . .

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I'm going to fucking kill him._

Hermione ran down the hallway, stopping to check every single room she passed by.

"Relax," Tonks said. "He has to be around here somewhere, right?"

"He could hurt somebody!" Hermione stopped short, gasping for air. "Oh my God, this whole thing could've been a set up. He could've been sent here by Voldemort. Holy Merlin, Tonks, we have to find him!"

"We will. Just calm down." Hermione was about to say she couldn't possibly calm down considering the situation, but Tonks held up a hand. "Everyone in the Order has a wand. Malfoy doesn't. There's only so much damage he can do. We'll find him and you'll report the incident to Dumbledore, and we'll just keep a sharper eye on him in the future."

Hermione took a deep breath and nodded. She was about to keep making her way down the hall when a house elf appeared in front of her with a crack.

"Miss Granger!" the house elf said, taking a bow. "I bring a message from Professor Snape!"

"Professor Snape?" She couldn't think of any reason why Snape would want to contact her. Unless–

"Yes, Miss," the house elf said. "It's regarding the Malfoy boy."

_Oh, shit. Malfoy killed somebody. Malfoy killed somebody and I'm to blame._

"He would like you to know that Draco Malfoy is waiting for you in the gardens."

Hermione blinked. "In the gardens?"

"Yes, Miss."

"He ran away to go sit in the gardens and wait for me?"

"I'm not sure, Miss," the house elf said, shifting in place.

Hermione locked her jaw. "I'm going to fucking kill him."

. . . . . .

Malfoys never really regretted their actions. It was one of the first lessons his father had ingrained into his skull.

"We have no regrets, Draco," Lucius would say as he sat by the fireplace and smoked a cigar, a glass of firewhiskey by his side. "We do what we have to do, regardless of the consequences. If it works out in our best interest, then great. If it doesn't, we learn from our mistakes and move on."

That was back when his father had been Draco's idol. He would watch his father smoke his cigarette and he would think Lucius was the king of the universe. Every word he said was magic. Draco would memorize everything he told him so that one day he could earn the honor of sitting in that chair, in front of that fireplace, smoking that cigar.

When he had gotten a little older and he had felt his first twinge of remorse, his father set him back on the right path. "We never blame ourselves for what goes wrong," Lucius had said. "Don't ever feel guilty about anything, Draco. Guilt is for the weak. If something goes wrong, it's always safe to assume that other people are to blame. That's the mark of a true Malfoy."

But Draco was beginning to wonder whether or not he was a 'true Malfoy.' Hell, he didn't give a damn about ditching Granger. The girl would find him soon enough and she'd unleash all the Mudblood forces she had within her, and he would deal with it because this small amount of freedom and privacy was worth it.

But when he thought about it – about how Malfoys never had regrets – that was where he had to stop. He had done a lot of things that he'd live to regret. In the past few months, his regrets had been his constant companions, as if to make sure he would never forget them. If they weren't with him in his waking hours, they haunted him in his dreams.

His thoughts moved on to Granger and his lip curled in disgust. What the hell was that old idiot Dumbledore doing? It hadn't even been a full day yet, and Draco was already sick of her. How they were going to manage was beyond him.

Snape had led him in the garden and left him there. Draco only now stopped to look around him. It was simple but beautiful, decorated with neatly trimmed bushes and all sorts of flowers that colored the stone path leading the way to a water fountain in the center.

Draco thought the garden was much too cheery for Grimmauld Place. They completely contradicted each other: Grimmauld Place was dark and somber, while the garden looked like something out of a fairytale. Completely different in every way and yet here they were, side by side.

"Excuse me? Do you need help finding something?"

Draco turned and came face to face with a girl about his age. She had long dark hair and dark eyes. She was looking at him in amusement.

"You're not lost, are you? A lot of the new recruits get lost when they take a walk on their first few days here. You'll get the hang of it."

"I'm not lost."

"Oh." The girl shifted her feet. "Sorry. I just assumed…it's an awfully big place. I got lost about a million times until I figured it all out. You _are_ a new recruit, aren't you? I haven't seen you around here before."

Draco eyed her warily. Either this girl was pretending to be friendly and getting a sick kick out of doing it, or she was just clueless. "And you are?"

"Oh, sorry. I'm Delia. A post-grad Hogwarts student."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Post-grad?"

"I graduated last year," Delia said, nodding. "I wanted to become an Auror, but the Ministry's being strict about it. You have to have all sorts of qualifications to join the Auror department now. It's obviously because of the war going on, but still. I had nothing to do until Dumbledore let me join the Order. I still have a lot to learn, but Tonks is my trainer now."

Draco snorted. "Good luck with that."

She smiled. "Tonks is actually a wonderful teacher. Most people don't think so because of how clumsy she is, but she's great. Have you met her already?"

"Yeah." he paused, wondering how much he should reveal. "We're…distant relatives."

"Oh?" She smiled at him. "She's probably talked about you, then. She tells me loads of stories about everyone. What's your name?"

He hesitated. Later, he wouldn't know why. It's not like he cared if anyone judged him. "Draco Malfoy."

Delia frowned in thought. "It rings a bell."

Draco nearly laughed. This girl obviously didn't pay attention to her environment. He was sure that he was the topic of hot gossip among every member in the Order, and he was pretty sure there were copies of the _Daily__ Prophet_ lying around somewhere, with his father – and therefore, the Malfoy name – listed in the Most Wanted section.

His father wasn't the only one in the _Daily __Prophet_. The Most Wanted section was almost two pages long, listing name after name after name of known Death Eaters. The last time he had checked, some of the names were familiar. Most of them weren't. It didn't surprise him that the list seemed to grow longer every week. The Death Eaters were obviously recruiting at a fast rate.

What surprised him was how many people were willing to join the dark side.

"Anyway," Delia continued, "I'll ask Tonks about you later."

Draco nodded. "You'll probably be disappointed. I haven't heard any nice stories about myself yet."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true. You're never as awful as you think you are."

He smirked but didn't reply. She smiled and said, "Well, I'd better get going. Maybe I'll see you sometime soon."

"Maybe."

Delia took off, and Draco turned once more to look at the fountain. And then he heard Delia say, from some small distance behind him, "Oh, hey there, Hermione!"

Draco groaned.


End file.
